


Not How It Is In The Mind

by andpeggles



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Canon Era, Character Death, Crying, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Screaming, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins-centric, Violence, im sorry, sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andpeggles/pseuds/andpeggles
Summary: Spot Conlon knew how this was supposed to go. It's supposed to rain on nights like these. Why isn't there even a cloud in the sky?





	Not How It Is In The Mind

Spot Conlon knew about these things. It's supposed to be raining. It's supposed be storming so hard that whenever thunder crashes, your bedstand shakes. It's supposed to be storming so hard, that families and couples and friends are bunched together in closets, cellars, basements, and bathrooms. It's supposed to be storming so hard and so wild that when walking down the street you can't see a few feet in front of you.

The World wasn't closed. The Journal wasn't closed. There was no screaming, or crying, or yelling, or crashing. Just a pop. One, simple, pop. That caused an entire panic attack and rip through Sean Conlon's heart, mind, and soul. And a rip through Racetrack Higgin's skin. There was no cloud in the sky. There was no pounding on the pavement. Spot could hear laughter, he heard it, he knew it was close but it sounded so far away. He sat there, in this dark alley way somewhere in Brooklyn, watching the life decrease from the eyes of a once jubilant, once laughing, once happy teenager.

"O-Oh Fuck, Okay Race.. We-we- Tony- please. Breathe. I'll get you back to the lodgings- Come on. Now, let's go." Sean tried to pick him up. He could, Race was dainty enough, and Spot was strong enough. Race shushed him.

"Nonsense. Such nonsense. Please.. I don't want to die. But if I do, and you know I will. I want to be with you.. So- talk to- me." He choked out between gasps, shaky breathing, and coughs. Fuck. Shit. Spot didn't know what to think, what to do. He wanted to save Tony but if he died on the way back he would regret everything. He was angry. His teeth clenched, but he was sad. His eyes watering. He held Race to his chest. He expected this to happen. It's not common for newsies to make it into adulthood in Brooklyn and Manhattan. So close to each other, yet so aggressive with one another. He clenched the boys hand, and put one arm under his neck and the other under his legs, and started cradling him. "I don't think I can do that, Racer." He stuttered, trying to get something out.

Tony nodded, gripping the wound in his side, "You know, i-it's funny how these things work. W-We work our asses off. We's newsies poundin' da pavements everything. Yet, we end up shot, and killed, and left for dead. No sinful act." Race knew he was lying. But he would describe him and Spot's relationship as anything but sinful. He stiffled a small scoff after that, laughing at his own irony.

Spot sobbed into his shoulder. He was about to lose him. His best friend. His love. His everything. His one.

"You's gotta promise me something, Spottie." Race choked out, Spot couldn't agree before Race started talking again. "You needs to tell Jackie, and Davey, and Crutch. And Kathy. And Albie, and Les, and all the boys. They's family. Even though I did trash on Davey sometimes he's was always good. Clean. Nice." Anybody could hear the guilt in his voice, the strain, the cracking, the loss of energy.

"Racer, yo-you's ain't gonna die." Spot dejected his claim. Race chuckled evilly.

"Sean, you know I am, Don't call me Racer. For now. Call me Antonio. You know you love too."

"I know. Antonio." Sean's voice cracked, and he put his lips to the boys hair.

"Sean. I's tired."

"No. No no no no no no no." Sean choked out. Tony nodded slyly. "You can't die, Tons. I need you."

"No, you don't. You have me. You always have." Tony's eyes fogged over and closed.

Spot yelled. He screamed, he held Tony like there was no tomorrow, and after those events, Sean didn't believe life was real.

If life was real, why would it end so early for someone so innocent, someone so kind, and generous, and enthusiastic. Someone who appreciated life so much, why the hell would life turn around and stab that person in the back, literally.

Spot yelled. He stomped, he kicked, he kept going back to Race's body. Limp, lifeless, and cold. It was warm out.

Spot knew how these things were supposed to go. Rain, terror, storm, everyone crying, hiding away, cowering. But right now, Sean Conlon, the King of Brooklyn, the almighty. Was the one crying, hiding away, and cowering.

Sean crumbled into himself, and held the body of a once joyful. Once happy person. Only 2 hours ago. Only 120 minutes ago. And the sky was clear. The universe untouched. But Spot's universe will never be the same. And to this day, he hates clear nights.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And tugging at your heartstrings.


End file.
